


Red Rage, Green Envy

by MandarineWren



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Also kind of, Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Origin Story, Other, POV First Person, Pre-Canon, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandarineWren/pseuds/MandarineWren
Summary: “I would have given anything for that opportunity, yet Saizo treated it as if it were nothing. He didn’t care about the honors being bestowed upon him. Not as much as I did. He didn’t even seem to enjoy his training, and yet he got to visit the castle and spar the prince.It could have been me. It should have been me.They had chosen the wrong twin.”—————A telling of Kaze and Saizo’s past through Kaze’s eyes, from the twins’ birth to the moment right before Kaze is captured and taken to Nohr.
Relationships: Kagero/Saizo (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	Red Rage, Green Envy

When we were born, one of us wasn’t wanted.

News spreads like wildfire in our hometown of Igasato, and on the day of our birth, it was no different. Citizen and ninja alike packed the streets that day, whispering and gossiping, asking for clarification. Tradesmen spread the word to housewives, housewives to their husbands, husbands to their neighbors. All uttered the same word in disbelief.

“Twins!”

Not a soul had predicted that our mother would give birth to not one, but two heirs. When our mother took us into her arms, her hands shook, because she did not know what the consequences were of bearing twin boys. She was said to be wracked with guilt as she looked at the faces of her twin sons. Upon seeing us, our father didn’t say a word. He simply nodded his thanks to the doctors and coldly left the room. I am told I began to cry, while my brother simply watched him go without making a sound.

When we were three, we began to train in ninjitsu.

Father summoned us to the training grounds before the sun had risen. I was deathly tired, and the cold of the early morning pierced through my clothing. However, the sight of Father standing alone on the grounds, surrounded by training equipment, thrilled me to a point that I forgot that my brother was there as well, staring at the equipment with a focused gaze.

Father ordered us to show him our skills, and my brother instantly took him up on the offer.

My brother had a natural talent for ninjitsu. He balanced on the balance beam well, only falling off once or twice. While he never hit his target, the spin he got on the shuriken was enough to extract some praise from Father. The only training he struggled with was stealth. The bamboo rod was thin, and he could stay under water for no longer than five seconds.

My turn came, but by the end, I wished that it hadn’t. I couldn’t stand on the balance beam, and instead had to resort to crawling on all fours, inching myself across unceremoniously while Father berated me for my efforts. The shuriken were difficult to maneuver. I was told I was throwing them wrong, but I couldn’t figure out the difference. The shuriken still flew when I threw them, but they bounced off the ground harmlessly, and Father clouted me around the ears for each one that fell. I wasn’t allowed to attempt stealth training. By that point, I didn’t want to.

Afterwards, my brother and I stood, panting, in front of Father. I can recall the feeling of the exhaustion I experienced that night quite well. My legs quaked so much I could barely stand, and my whole body shook with each rattling breath.

Our Father looked us over; a stern look at me, and an approving look at my brother. Father took him aside and laid a hand on his shoulders proudly.

From that day forward, I was known as Kaze, and my brother was to be named Saizo.

When we were eight, a celebration was held in Saizo’s honor.

It was to be celebrated throughout the whole nation, and Igasato hummed with anticipation. As the day arrived, I, too, could hardly contain myself, as I loved festivities.

“I wish I could be as amazing as you,” I had whispered to my brother as attendants fussed with his hair and straightened his collar. They had finished with me long ago.

Saizo raised his eyes and looked at me when he heard my words. It was a look I could never forget. He didn’t smile; he barely seemed to acknowledge that I was there. His eyes were blank and void of all emotion. His lips parted ever so slightly.

“I wish you were as well.”

What had he meant? The words themselves were encouraging, yet his voice carried no fondness in it. I wondered about it all throughout the early hours of the daylight celebration, wandering aimlessly around the stalls and occasionally stopping to sample a vendor’s wares. The chrysanthemums had begun to bloom, and many flower sellers gaily offered me one, but I declined every time. There was bon dancing in the streets and a large woman grabbed me and brought me, unwilling as I was, into the dance. I went through the motions while my mind went over Saizo’s words. Perhaps he just hadn’t expressed himself as well as he meant to. He was notorious for his constant failure to get his emotions across, so it wouldn’t be a rare occurrence if he had. Still, something about it felt odd. 

The piercing flutes and thundering drums made it difficult for me to think. After what felt like an hour of humoring the woman who had taken hold of me, I broke free of the dance and the deafening music, no longer able to focus. Resolving to ask Saizo about his comment at the banquet, I decided not to worry anymore and joined the local children for kite flying.

The banquet was extravagant, even for a town such as Igasato. Steaming roast boar was arranged appealingly on platters, boiled vegetables of all shapes and hues were laid out invitingly in bowls, and the tables were covered in chilled beverages of all kinds. One particular plate of whole cooked, salted mackerel caught my eye and my mouth watered from the sight of it. I wanted to try everything, but I held back and made my way to Saizo first.

He sat at the head of the table, his eyes glazed over and fixed on the far end of the room. Every now and then, his head would droop slightly and he’d jolt himself back upright, his eyes wide and glassy, only to repeat the process over again. He hadn’t been allowed to participate in the festivities outdoors, and I guiltily wondered if I should have brought him a candy apple. I slipped through the crowd and over to his chair, aiming to poking him and startle him awake.

Saizo caught my finger before I could get close to his arm. “I could sense you across the room, Kaze,” he said as I struggled to free myself.

I managed to twist out of his grip and massaged my now painful hand. “There was no need for you to stop me by twisting my finger off,” I cried. My finger throbbed, and I tucked it under my arm and attempted to squeeze the pain away.

“There was no need for you to attempt to sneak up on me.” His voice was monotone and gray. His eyes hadn’t moved from the far wall as he spoke. I noticed a shuriken in his hand, which he flipped nonchalantly. His food sat, untouched, in front of him.

I was filled with concern and confusion at the same time. Saizo usually was the first to eat after Father, and the last to finish. He almost never carried a shuriken with such carelessness either. I wondered if he was sick and opened my mouth to ask him. Before I could speak, however, I felt myself get lifted off my feet and set down a few seats away from my brother. I looked up to find Father, who gave me the usual stern look and then walked over to Saizo, where he spoke to him in a low but undoubtedly grim voice.

At that point, I didn’t feel like eating either.

When we were ten, Saizo’s training became harder, while mine became easier. 

Father grew far more strict, shouting at Saizo for the smallest mistake and forcing him to train all hours of the day. I was allotted the afternoons, when I would be invited to train with my brother. We were tasked with physical strengthening exercises, ninjitsu training, and mock fights, each grueling workout nearly causing me to pass out.

My training ended right before dinner. Saizo’s continued late into the night.

I began to grow accustomed to the training over time, and even began doing some extra drills on my own. Saizo, however, seemed more tired than ever. I began to wonder what training Father did with Saizo and had to resist the urge to spy on them.

One night, I was already tucked away in bed when Saizo entered the room, breathing heavily, his exhaustion clear in his movements. He didn’t acknowledge me, but went straight to sleep without changing out of his combat gear, propped up against the door with his head leaning against the dresser. His stomach rumbled loudly in his sleep and his hands kept twitching, as if to grab a weapon and strike.

I didn’t sleep that night. I watched over him, concerned, and yet, I was startled to find out, furiously jealous of my brother who was allowed to train longer and spend more time with Father than I was.

The smell of chrysanthemums permeated the cold night air, and I breathed it in as my emotions took hold.

When we were thirteen, Saizo was taken to meet the High Prince of Hoshido.

An extravagant assembly of escorts, as well as Father himself, accompanied Saizo. He didn’t return until a few days later, and when he did, I couldn’t look at him without a bitter taste in my mouth.

I managed to pry details out of Saizo when I got the chance, and the more he spoke about it, the deeper my jealousy grew.

The prince had been kind and composed, as any proper prince of Hoshido should be. He had been not much older than us, and wore his hair long and tied back out of his eyes. He was the spitting image of the current king, and had pronounced Saizo his future retainer on the spot. They had even sparred together; the prince was no slouch in combat and Saizo had very nearly been overwhelmed.

The last part in particular sparked my jealous anger, but I kept it hidden and feigned excitement at my brother’s achievements. Afterwards, I ran to our room and tore the feathers out of my pillow to abate my frustration.

I would have given anything for that opportunity, yet Saizo treated it as if it were nothing. He didn’t care about the honors being bestowed upon him. Not as much as I did. He didn’t even seem to enjoy his training, and yet he got to visit the castle and spar the prince.

It could have been me. It should have been me.

They had chosen the wrong twin.

When we were fourteen, I grew bold.

I was told to go inside after my training session, as usual. I obediently turned to leave, and then paused. Father had already launched into the next set of drills for Saizo, and I felt a familiar tightness in my chest.

I turned back and said, quietly, to avoid seeming presumptuous, “Father, I would like to train with you some more. I would like to do the training that you are having Saizo do.”

Father had looked as if he had been slapped in the face, and raised his hand to give me a lashing. I had seen such a move many times before. Reading his movements was as simple as reading a book now. I dodged cleanly out of the way of his strike, my foot pivoting perfectly as I did so.

Father had a change of heart after seeing the execution of my maneuver. I was allowed to train with them from then on, waking up before dawn with Saizo and finishing well after dinner. The training was difficult; actually, that description alone is a gross understatement. Most days I was forced to suppress the urge to vomit from exhaustion, but I pushed through with sheer willpower. Father still focused on Saizo and only spoke to me to remind me that I was not given the coveted title, but I chose not to mind. It was enough to be allowed to join them.

When autumn came, Father took ill.

The doctors told us it wasn’t life threatening, but that he was required to be bedridden until further notice.

Saizo and I continued our training without his guidance. On some days, I would find Saizo awake earlier than me, and already training on the grounds. This never failed to irk me, but I always let it slide, and would join him immediately.

The illness softened Father. When Saizo and I would visit him, not a word came out of his mouth about our failings. He spoke of how proud he was of us both, and how much he wished for us to grow into the finest ninjas Igasato, nay Hoshido, had seen. Father would then fall back on his pillows in a cold sweat, forcing us to leave. Whenever these encounters took place, I would hide myself away and curse my idiocy, because I hadn’t realized that Father was trying to express his love for us through training the whole time.

While the disease softened Father, Saizo grew more bitter as the days passed. Some days, I feared he would actually try to kill me during our mock fights. but he would stop within centimeters of dealing a finishing blow, his eyes wild and his hair disheveled. He rarely ate, and I wasn’t sure if he even slept, as I would wake up some nights to find his bed empty. My jealousy of my brother lessened slightly during those days, but my frustration with him only grew. He was becoming like a wild animal, irritable and unpredictable, and while it made him more powerful, his movements were only becoming sloppier. My suppressed frustration changed to anger, and my anger to hatred.

One night, as we were finishing our training, I suggested one final mock battle between the two of us. Saizo agreed, and we took our stances. I held my dagger ready, staring at the face of the brother I’d grown to loathe. I took a deep breath. Before the starting signal had even finished sounding, Saizo was already on the move, ducking and weaving to get past my defenses.

I countered with a similar motion of my own, mirroring his movements while keeping an eye on the dagger gripped in his hand. He struck, and I rolled to the side, dodging him by a hair. His eyes were crazed once more, his mouth open in a snarl.

Emotions run high during a fight, legitimate or not, and as I avoided Saizo’s attack, I felt the anger I’d kept suppressed for years flare up unchecked.

I launched an attack on Saizo. To this day, I don’t remember what I did, what moves I made or how I struck. The only thing I remember was coming back to my senses, my dagger held against Saizo’s throat, my other hand clenching his striking arm tight.

I pulled back in shock. I had never come close to beating Saizo in a fight, let alone overpowered him so effortlessly. I tried to speak, but my throat was dry and my heart was rushing with adrenaline. Instead, I just stared blankly at him.

Saizo stared back, and in a flash, I was back at the celebration when we were eight, except I was the far wall that Saizo stared at vacantly.

Saizo’s mouth opened as if he were going to say something, but no words came out. His face looked shockingly pale in the moonlight. He wobbled where he stood, his eyes rolled back into his head, and before I could shout, he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Another sleepless night passed after that. I stayed by Saizo’s bedside, head in my hands, winding my hair between my fingers and tearing at it as if that would help me clear my head. I was still angry, but now I couldn’t tell if I was angry at Saizo or at myself. I would convince myself that I was justified in my hatred of my brother. I had suffered for years in his shadow, constantly overlooked as the extra, the replacement, the one that no one wanted. It made sense to feel resentment. But then I would look at Saizo lying still on the bed next to me, pale and thin, and I would hate myself for hating him.

By morning, Saizo still hadn’t woken, and I neglected my training to stay by his side. The doctors came to check on him. They said it was just a result of fatigue and malnutrition, and that with proper rest, he would be back on his feet in no time. They then left to care for Father, and I stayed to care for my brother.

Every minute that passed, I could feel my jealousy for my brother being slowly replaced with pity. There had clearly been something gnawing away at him, and I wished I knew what it was.

And then an urgent message arrived from the king at noon that broke through the fog that clouded my head and shook me to my core. King Sumeragi was to meet with King Garon of Nohr for a diplomatic discussion and was taking two of his children with him in the hopes of enhancing their governmental knowledge, and had asked for Father to accompany him. The High Prince Ryoma was one of the children, and had requested Saizo to join as well.

I felt as though my world had shattered. It would be a disgrace on the Saizo name if my brother and father were to not answer the summons of their lieges, but Saizo was still unresponsive and wouldn’t recover for days (if the doctors were to be trusted), and Father was in no condition to leave his bed. I was sure he would go anyway if news of the summons reached him, but that would mean certain death if anything were to befall him.

I clutched the letter tightly in my hands. I had already decided on the best course of action.

I knew Saizo would hate me. I knew Father would be disappointed. I knew Mother would worry. But, for the sake of the Saizo name, I did what had to be done. I offered my services in place of theirs.

It was a tiring journey to the capital and I had stayed up most recent nights to keep watch over Saizo, so I slept most of the way. I only woke twice; once, when a pegasus flew low over head and whinnied loudly (I was so startled I nearly killed our driver with a shuriken), and the second time when I sensed the karakuri passing over paved roads.

I poked my head around the driver to get my bearings, and caught sight of the capital for the first time. The sight took my breath away. High, mossy green roofs plated in gold looked over the bustling streets. People in gaudy traditional wear passed from building to building, toting bags and small children and chattering gaily. Three pegasi flew overhead, one rider letting out a whoop of joy as they passed over the crowds and headed towards Castle Shirasagi. I caught the smell of freshly cooked meat, and a vendor ran over and gave me some warm, sweet bread to try, which I accepted graciously.

If my eyes had been wide before, they grew twice the size at the sight of the royal palace. I forgot my place as a ninja in service to the prince and instead felt the true lowliness of my status as I gaped at the majestic castle. The brilliant green and gold rooftops sloped high above the other buildings as if asserting dominance. Thick, fiery red pillars rose from the floor to support the roofs, their surfaces etched with carvings of the Dawn Dragon of old and sakura trees, contrasting the pure white walls that made up the main rooms. The gates rose high and mighty, and they slowly opened to allow us through as we arrived before them.

While the sight of the palace was one I was sure to never forget, the rest of the dealings in the castle were all an emotional blur. I was presented before the young prince and went through the motions, offering him my services and expressing my brother’s humblest apologies for his absence. Prince Ryoma truly was the spitting image of King Sumeragi, and his young age made me feel more at ease, and yet, even more anxious. The prince had risen me up and told me that he appreciated my selflessness, which thrilled me and then caused a pang of guilt at the knowledge that I was enjoying myself at my brother’s expense. I met the king, who greeted me as if I were his own son and was directed to a guest room, where I finally began putting myself back together.

The meeting was to occur within four days, so my preparations had to be swift. I gathered my weapons; my shuriken were tucked into my belt, my katana in its sheath, and my smoke bombs were stored in the pouch at my side. I then hurried to the main hall, where the rest of the royal entourage was to assemble. When Prince Ryoma saw me, he laughed, and said I had no need to be battle ready, as they were simply going to discuss peace treaties. All he carried was a light katana. I felt embarrassed, but kept my weapons at hand just the same as I had been trained to do. I regret to say that I even began to feel excited. My chance to prove myself was at hand, after all.

Before long, we were off. It was to be a three day journey, and we were scheduled to arrive in the country of Cheve by nightfall. During this time, I bonded with the King’s children. Prince Ryoma was very outspoken and opinionated, and I found myself admiring him despite myself. He talked to me about the customs in the palace, and tossed around the idea of having me visit for a full tour upon our return (which I liked the sound of). The other child, Princess Corrin, was no more than six, and yet she was surprisingly inquisitive. I spent the larger portion of the journey answering her questions about ninjitsu and Igasato and the occasional inquiry about my weaponry. I had hardly any time to think about my family back home, and when I did, I found it painful to do so.

On the first night, I slept in the High Prince’s room. The princess was there, too, as she didn’t take kindly to being separated from her brother. Prince Ryoma didn’t seem to mind, and read her Hoshidan folktales late into the night. I offered to take over that duty for him, but he simply smiled and continued reading, so I settled with preparing the bags for the next day.

On the second night, Prince Ryoma asked me to accompany him around town. The ground was getting increasingly barren, and the skies were growing darker. I wasn’t sure what there was that he would like to see, but I joined him all the same.

The gray skies and darker stonework set me on edge, and I stayed close to the prince with a shuriken in hand as we ventured out into the town. Prince Ryoma, however, seemed to hum with suppressed excitement, and there was a spring in his step as he walked.

The prince got to talking to the townsfolk, and it soon seemed as though he had won over the whole town. He asked about their daily lives, and their families, and if they were eating well. He gave out alms when needed and even cracked a joke from time to time. He was naturally charismatic, and I found my admiration for him grow. 

Every now and then he would stop to spar with some of the children, despite my encouragements against such things. He assured me there was no harm in it, but I had my doubts. It would not do for the prince to get injured under my watch, and so I watched every bout carefully, with one hand grasping a shuriken and another on my katana .

However, the night passed without incident, and we returned to the inn, breathless and exhausted. Prince Ryoma thanked me profusely that night. He had long been curious about the situations near the border, and knew that this could be his only chance to ask the people directly.

“I still haven’t had the chance to get to know Saizo well yet,” he had said, “but if he’s at all like you, then I know I’m in good hands.”

My heart dropped at those words. I had unknowingly begun to think of Prince Ryoma as my own liege, if not a friend. I hadn’t even thought of Saizo the entire day. I felt biting shame in my chest, and I lowered my eyes to the wooden floor, too ashamed to look at the prince.

“My brother,” I swallowed, and tried again, “My brother is far more capable than I could ever hope to be.”

I left the prince there and wandered the town the rest of the night, wishing to trade places with Saizo more than ever before.

The third night, I was preparing to go to sleep when Princess Corrin appeared at my door and latched onto my leg, refusing to let go. I tried to explain that she had to rest so she could pay attention at the meeting the next day, but she shook her head stubbornly. She wanted to walk around town and look at the shops, but her father had forbid it, and Prince Ryoma was already fast asleep. She begged me to take her and, when that didn’t work, began to pout. Begrudgingly, I snuck her out.

The streets of Cheve were dimly lit and the people were haggard in appearance. The village’s close proximity to Nohr no doubt contributed to their poverty. The shops didn’t offer much aside from stale bread and rusty weaponry. The princess and I stood out in our Hoshidan garb, and every now and then her cries of delight would draw hostile stares. I would quickly hurry her on her way as the people glared, my senses heightened and ready to protect her should it come to that.

Corrin found a butterfly hair clip that she fell in love with, and I bought it for her in the hope that she would be satisfied. Instead, she grew more hyper, and asked for food from a nearby stall. I explained that the food in Cheve wasn’t proper for her to eat, but she didn’t mind. I reluctantly bought some stale rolls for the princess, and she responded by asking if I would stay in the castle with her when we returned to Hoshido. That lifted my spirits, and I bought one for myself as well.

As we sat on the cold road side eating the flavorless morsels, something caught my eye that set me on edge. A group of men not far off were watching us, each of them much more muscular than the average Chevois. Their eyes were hardened and filled with malice, and they were clustered in the darkest shadows of the street. Upon seeing that I had noticed them, one of them muttered something to his fellows, and the group stood and left. The shine of metal under their cloaks didn’t escape me. The sight sent a shiver up my spine and raw fear seized my heart. I quickly grabbed the princess and hurried back to the inn, dropping the tasteless food in the street and ignoring her questioning cries.

The bloodlust I sensed from the men kept me on edge that night. Every noise sounded like the scrape of a blade or the click of a lock, and I started at each one. The hand on my katana was tense, and remained that way until dawn the next morning.

I debated telling the King about what I had witnessed. The looks on the men’s faces still caused me to feel uneasy whenever I recalled them, and they clearly had murderous intent. However, I held myself back. They had probably been townsfolk that had gotten too riled up by Princess Corrin’s joyful chatter, I told myself. They certainly wouldn’t attack her when she was accompanied by a band of well trained Hoshidan samurai. We were safe.

What a fool I was.

The painfully dark streets were cumbersome at night, and my uneasiness grew as our party grew closer to the meeting spot. I caught myself checking over my shoulder numerous times. Prince Ryoma noticed as well and quietly asked me if I saw anything every time. My answer was always no, but I remained on edge.

As we entered the last alleyway before the designated spot, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. My pulse quickened as I scanned the narrow street. Not a soul was to be found. There was nothing unusual.

Nothing.

I turned back as the lights in the street went out.

A scream ripped through the air. On instinct I jumped into a battle stance, hiding myself in the shadows. Another scream, and another. Nearby, I heard something fall to the ground.

My eyes adjust fast, and as my vision returned, I beheld the massacre in front of me. Our soldiers were blundering blindly around, swinging their katanas at the empty air. Arrows peppered our ranks, and a cacophony of screams pierced the air once more. I could barely make out an enemy force at the mouth of the alley, their howls brimming with a thirst for blood. Not far off, Prince Ryoma stood, battle ready and yet entirely vulnerable. His blade was out and he was desperately staring into the darkness, his young age showing plainly in the fear on his face. I couldn’t make out Princess Corrin in the chaos, and as I frantically scanned the crowd for her, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of King Sumeragi.

He stood at the front of the troops, his body pierced with arrows. His katanas were in his hands and he roared with fury as he swung them in powerful arcs. The blades felled enemy soldiers left and right, sending their corpses falling to the ground almost gracefully, like petals on the wind. As he raised his blood filled eyes to face his enemies he cried out to his men, attempting to rally them.

I took the scene in in an instant, and then, katana drawn, heart pounding with fear, I flung myself into the fray. My blade work was precise, and adrenaline pumped through my veins. The smell of battle permeated my senses and the roar of men beat at my ears. Blood of friend and foe alike soaked my clothing and stained my blade. 

I began to fight my way to Prince Ryoma, trying to keep him in my sight as I worked my way through the slaughter. I dug my blade into the midriff of a soldier and he fell, gurgling, towards me. I dodged around his corpse and scanned the crowd frantically, having lost Prince Ryoma’s location momentarily.

I caught sight of him again not thirty paces away. His blade was bloodstained. His eyes were wide with horror. One final push and I’d be by his side.

A whistling through the air caught my attention. Another volley of arrows had been released. 

Sudden, raw fear stabbed at my heart. I leaped toward the prince, shouting a warning. His pale face turned towards me, his eyes questioning as I extended a hand for him desperately. 

The volley mercilessly descended on our army. Screams pierced the night. 

I reached the prince as he fell, an arrow deep in his back.

Blood seeped through the ceremonial clothing on Prince Ryoma’s body. Cries of pain and terror flooded my head. I felt myself go numb. I tried to hold my weapon steady, but my hands were shaking. There was nothing to be done. Our ranks were thinning far too quickly.

My leg buckled underneath me. I hadn’t noticed the arrow lodged in my thigh, and my vision swam as sudden, searing pain ignited in my leg. I fell on all fours next to the prince, staring at the cobbled stone road now dyed red with blood. Despair choked my senses.

My father’s face flashed before my eyes, stern and commanding. He was yelling at me to get up.

My mother’s face flashed before my eyes, worry etched in every line. She whispered encouraging words.

My brother’s face flashed before my eyes.

“Kaze. Protect my liege.”

I snapped back into reality. The moans of the dying echoed against the buildings surrounding me. The sound of fighting still continued, but it was fading fast, and sounded eerily distant.

I reached out a hand and grabbed Prince Ryoma by his collar. The only thought in my mind was to get him to safety. Whether he still lived or not, I couldn’t tell, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. I struggled to pull his body into a branching off alley. I could see some barrels tucked away down that path. If I could get him there, I could hide him well enough.

The pain in my leg was unbearable. I dragged it behind me as I crawled towards the alley, hand over hand, not paying any heed to the bodies that piled the street. Blood flowed from the corpses like water, and the slickness of the stones caused me to collapse countless times. But every time I fell I heard my brother’s voice in my head, and I would struggle to my knees once more.

The alley was close. One last push and I knew we would make it. Then, I froze.

The sounds of battle had ceased.

My heart pounded deafeningly in the silence as I looked to the far end of the street, praying that the soldiers hadn’t seen me. I saw no movement nearby, and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing them clustered together without showing signs of movement. The sigh quickly became a gasp, however, as I focused in on what they were looking at.

King Sumeragi knelt, alone, amidst the bodies of his men, his head still raised defiantly. His whole torso shook with each breath. Countless arrows pierced his body, and his katanas lay, discarded, on the ground. 

Before him stood Garon, the King of Nohr himself. I felt faint upon seeing him. This hadn’t been a random attack. The King himself had planned this out to the very last detail. The whole journey had been a ruse to draw the King of Hoshido out of safety and finish him, once and for all.

Garon was speaking to King Sumeragi, and my blood boiled with a rage I’d never felt before. I wished for nothing more than to rush to the king’s side and protect him. Cursing, I lay Prince Ryoma down carefully and struggled to stand in vain. My leg could bear no weight. I collapsed once more, and as I looked back helplessly at the horrifying scene before me, another detail caught my eye which caused me to sway on the spot.

Basked in the light of one of the only lit lamps on the street stood young Princess Corrin. Blood bathed her from head to foot and she stood still, staring at her father wordlessly, tears running down her small face. In her hands, she clutched the butterfly hair clip.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to do anything to prevent this situation from happening. I thought back to the moment I had sensed the bloodlust of the men in the marketplace and cursed myself for not reporting it to the king. I cursed myself for not seeing through their scheme beforehand. I cursed myself for not fully recognizing Saizo’s fatigue until it was too late. I cursed myself for my own ineptitude.

King Garon brought his axe down on King Sumeragi’s head. The king cried out once and then fell, his blood mingling with those of the other corpses. Garon coldly stepped over the body and reached for the young princess, who stood, still as a statue, staring up at her father’s murderer.

My vision clouded, and I passed out.

I awoke back in Igasato. At first, I was alarmed, and cried out upon awakening. However, I soon recognized the familiar earthy scent of the chrysanthemums, and fell back on my pillows, my head spinning and my leg throbbing.

I could tell it was midday, but what the date was, I couldn’t be sure. The sunlight was blinding compared to the dim streets of Cheve. Visions of the slaughter in the alleyway thrust themselves on me, and I clenched my teeth in agony at the memories.

A sound next to my bedside alerted me to the presence of a visitor, and I turned. 

Saizo stood there. He was dressed in his normal, ragged ninja garb. His hair was combed back out of his eyes and there was color in his face. He noticed me turn and quickly looked away and outside of the window, where the fragrant flowers were blooming gently.

I was stunned into silence. The last I had seen of my brother, he had been bedridden and unresponsive, yet now our positions were traded. I momentarily wondered if I had died, but once again, the smell of chrysanthemums brought me back to my senses.

“It was not your place to take care of my liege. He is my responsibility, not yours.”

Those were the first words out of Saizo’s mouth, and a flash of annoyance flared up within me. It died just as quickly, though, and I stared at the ceiling in silence.

“And yet you protected him,” he continued.

Saizo wasn’t looking at me, but a rush of unwelcome gratitude pierced my injured heart. Saizo, awkward as he was, was attempting to thank me. Yet, he didn’t know the circumstances that had led to that night. 

I smiled weakly, my stomach twisting. “I appreciate the compliment, but I failed where I should have succeeded. I’ve brought shame on all of Igasato.”

Saizo didn’t acknowledge me, he simply continued on. Prince Ryoma was safe and recovering, however, the same could not be said for the majority of the men. Princess Corrin had gone missing, and the Hoshidan diviners were working to determine if she was being held in Nohr or if she had been killed. King Sumeragi’s body was yet to be found, and there were rumors that the Nohrians were keeping it as a trophy of sorts. King Sumeragi’s wife, Queen Mikoto, was to take over rule of Hoshido until Prince Ryoma became of age. 

I listened in numb silence, the memories of that tragic battle filling my mind. Suffocating guilt swelled in my throat as he detailed the aftermath.

Suddenly, Saizo buried his face in his hands. 

It caught me off guard, and all my previous musings were pushed to the back of my mind. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but couldn’t find the words. Thankfully, I didn’t need them.

“You are far more fit to be a Saizo than I am,” Saizo mumbled. I had never heard him so distraught, and his words shook me to my core. Me? The blight on the prestigious line of Igasato ninjas, more fit than Saizo, the apple of our father’s eye? It was a ludicrous statement to say the least.

“Saizo, I am far inferior to you when it comes to skill. I can barely hold a candle to your technique. I just brought about the massacre of hundreds of well-trained men.” I choked out a laugh. “The mere thought that I could be more fit to be Saizo is mind boggling to me.”

Saizo just shook his head. “You train willingly. I train out of obligation. I have never once wanted to train, but I do so anyway, because the weight of the Saizo name rests on my shoulders. When I heard you had accompanied Prince Ryoma in my stead, I was glad to be free of the responsibility of keeping a prince safe. You not only kept him safe, but risked your life to do so.” Saizo hadn’t raised his head from his hands. “They chose the wrong twin.”

His last words rang in my head. I was sent back to the time when Saizo had met Prince Ryoma for the first time.

‘They chose the wrong twin.’ The same thought had echoed in my mind back then.

And only recently had I realized how wrong I had been.

I swallowed. “I believed that as well. I was more dedicated, more willing, and more accepting of responsibilities than you were. I envied your position, how you got to spend more time with Father and how you got to spar with the Hoshidan High Prince.”

Saizo didn’t move.

“But,” I continued, “That journey to Nohr has taught me how weak I truly am. I am no leader. I noticed suspicious individuals and didn’t report my troubles to the king. When the Nohrians ambushed us, I could barely force myself to move out of fear. I feel ashamed to call myself a ninja.” I laughed bitterly. “The training you did with Father was a daily struggle for me. I could hardly move after the first day.”

“I am no better! I let mere exhaustion cripple me for days!” Saizo hands dropped from his face and he glared at the flowers by the window. “You don’t know how I’ve envied you all these years!”

His voice rang in my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was my current exhausted mental state or Saizo’s words, but I felt a sudden, unwelcome emotion swell within me. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. 

I began to laugh. It was painful, especially considering my current state, but I couldn’t hold it in. I clutched my sides, very nearly shedding real tears.

“But, Saizo,” I could barely get the words out, “I’ve been envying you this whole time!”

Saizo’s expression only made me laugh harder. My cheeks hurt and pain shot through my leg. I gulped at the air to try to calm myself.

“How could anyone envy the position I’m in?” Saizo asked as he watched my struggle.

“That’s what I’m wondering!”

“It’s simple,” Saizo said, a perplexed, but annoyed look on his face, “You have less pressure and less responsibility. You don’t have to worry about leadership, or what will happen once Father passes, or if your skills are good enough. You can do as you please, without anyone holding you back.”

“As for me,” I gasped, finally getting my laughter under control, “It’s the very fact that you have responsibility that I envy you. Father hardly acknowledges me, and when he does, it’s to belittle my status. You’re praised, looked up to, and given more opportunities than I am. I would never have set foot in the Hoshidan palace if not for your momentary incapacity.”

“But I don’t want that admiration!”

“And I don’t want this freedom!”

The ridiculousness of the situation eased the tension in the room, and Saizo and I began talking about our differences, what was expected of us, and what we wished we had. It was a freeing experience despite it being against a ninja’s nature to open up to others. Saizo even managed a chuckle from time to time. We both knew our lives could not be traded, and as we spoke, we grew to understand the blessings we each had.

By the end of the day, I felt my bond with my brother was stronger than ever, and by Saizo’s demeanor, I could tell he felt the same. The horror of the night in Cheve still lingered, but the memories had been dulled by the conversation. We parted in good spirits, and I lay back to rest, vowing to stay by Saizo’s side no matter what came next.

When we were fifteen, we grew closer.

I had fully recovered, and was back on my feet and continuing training on my own time. I had stopped attempting to copy Saizo’s training regimen. Instead, I focused on my individual weaknesses. I took to walking among the people and inquiring about their day in a similar fashion to that of Prince Ryoma the year before.

Saizo would often join me in walks around town whenever he could, and I enjoyed his company. However, uncomfortable stares began to follow us wherever we went. Many people would whisper as we walked past, and we would often find ourselves bombarded with bouquets and letters from the girls of the town, which befuddles me to this day. Saizo began taking to wearing a mask, and when I questioned him about it, he simply rolled he eyes and told me to mind my own business.

One ninja in particular seemed to never be able to leave us alone, my brother in particular. She would often appear silently besides us, deposit a pile of what we could only presume was meant to be artwork in Saizo’s arms, and vanish, leaving Saizo pink in the face and leaving me puzzled. By the seventh time she had done this, I questioned Saizo about her. He revealed that her name was Kagero, and she had been chosen as Prince Ryoma’s second retainer in her brother’s stead. She didn’t actually live in Igasato, but chose to visit frequently. She had great skill and had originally been training to become a retainer for Queen Mikoto, but eventually had been sent to serve the prince instead. Saizo didn’t meet my eyes as he spoke, and I needed no further explanation. 

I also noticed that Saizo kept her drawings under his pillow, but didn’t bring it up.

When Saizo’s training kept him up past dinner, I would stay at the table and wait for him. He always made a fuss about it, saying he didn’t want to be babied by me and could eat by himself, but I chose to ignore him. I could tell he appreciated the company.

The illness of the previous year had weakened our father greatly, and by his mannerisms it was clear to see that he was irritated by this and itched to travel to Castle Shirasagi to check on the royal family. Our mother was forced to hold him back, and more often than not, Saizo was sent instead. Occasionally I would accompany him, although I always felt a familiar stab of guilt whenever I spotted the castle’s gilded rooftops. I avoided interacting with the royal family whenever possible, opting to train in the courtyard instead. I would sometimes see Kagero on those trips, and we would spar each other while Saizo spoke with the prince. She was every bit as talented as Saizo made her out to be, and I often found myself with my back to the wall and her dagger at my throat. 

Saizo’s meetings with the royal family could last anywhere from a few hours to an entire day, but he’d always inform me of what was discussed during each one. Tensions were building between Hoshido and Nohr since the king’s murder, it seemed, and Saizo told me that the time to enter into full service of the royal family seemed to be approaching faster because of it. Saizo also said Prince Ryoma mentioned me every now and then and inquired about my health, which made me glad. However, I still felt too ashamed to meet with him face to face.

Princess Corrin had still not been found, and it gnawed away at me. I always asked Saizo for updates, but the answer was always the same. Otherwise, we never brought it up. We had both decided individually that the events of that night were a taboo topic between us.

When we were sixteen, our world was split once more.

Our father was found dead in the streets with his throat slit open.

The whole of Igasato went into in an uproar. Ninja patrolled the streets and were sent out to scout the nearby countryside, vainly searching for Father’s killer. Those who did not know how to defend themselves didn’t leave their homes without an escort. My mother was in hysterics despite knowing that something like this might happen, and spent countless hours locked away in her room.

Despite my grief, I did all I could to ease the fear of the people, but Saizo became entirely closed off. Whatever bond we had formed during our fifteenth year was severed completely. He began working feverishly at all hours like a man possessed, organizing the scouting parties and investigating the events surrounding the murder. His already poor temper took a turn for the worse, so that even the slightest mistake caused him to fly into a rage. I began to see a side of Saizo that I had never experienced, and it wounded me.

For months, the murder of Saizo the Fourth haunted the minds of the citizens of Igasato, but by the end of the year, most were resigned to never discovering the truth of that day, myself included. Our mother died of a broken heart, and the people celebrated the beginning of the rule of Saizo the Fifth.

Yet Saizo himself refused to accept the haste with which the search was dropped. While he did do what he had to for the people, his mind was set, and he began going out alone to follow up on leads. I forced myself to stand in for him whenever he would leave, helping the people and taking care of errands, my heart heavy but my head high.

Some days while Saizo was out, Kagero would appear, usually no more than two days after he left, to inquire about him. I could never provide enough information to satisfy her. More often than not, her eyes would be bloodshot, and she’d return to Castle Shirasagi by the next day.

When we became adults, Saizo grew more reckless.

His journeys abroad began consistently ending in injury, and he would return with pent up anger and another lost lead.

By this point, all of Igasato had given up hope of finding the culprit. I told Saizo this constantly, and reminded him that his people needed him to be a proper leader, but whenever I spoke of it Saizo would fly into a rage. I couldn’t begin to understand his obsession with our father’s killers, and so chose not to try.

Kagero was different. She remained busy at the capital, but started visiting almost daily to either speak with Saizo or simply watch him tear himself apart with a grave expression. Most nights that she came, her arguments with Saizo would carry on well into the night. I did feel some guilt about entrusting her with Saizo’s mental state, but I for a while now I had begun to think that I didn’t really know my brother at all.

Still, I performed his duties when he was absent.

One unusually cold summer’s day, I was sent to the Murakashi ninjas for a three day council meeting. Saizo hadn’t been back in Igasato in weeks, a new low that brought my spirits down with it. I struggled to focus during that meeting. I was sure they discussed things of great importance, but my heart wasn’t in it and my mind wandered. 

Those three days crawled by at a snail’s pace, and yet were over before I had even fully recognized where I was. I trekked back to Igasato with my escorts feeling slightly unwell and off balance.

When we arrived back at Igasato, Saizo had returned.

The news instantly reinvigorated me. I eagerly asked to see him, but the informants passed a dark look between them and told me I would have to wait a few days.

I didn’t like the sound of that, and when I informed Kagero of the situation, she was just as concerned. However, we both agreed that there was nothing to be done but to wait.

If I had thought the days in Murakashi passed slowly, then the next few days in Igasato felt as thought time had stopped. I had to push myself to complete my duties, and found it impossible to think straight. Every night offered dark thoughts and little sleep. My concerns about my brother continued to pull me down as time dragged on. I must have been noticeably out of sorts, as many inquiries were made about my health and a doctor was even called, but I was healthy, as far as physical health was concerned. Mentally, I was reaching my limit.

By the end of the fifth day, I had had enough, and so had Kagero.

We put our heads together and planned to sneak in to see Saizo as soon as humanly possible without alerting the guards outside his room. Plans were drawn up to visit him that weekend. During the time until then, I watched the guards’ movements carefully and reported my observations to Kagero, who would likewise commit them to memory. She, in turn, began wandering the living area, taking mental notes of the layout and deciding upon the best course of action. We eventually settled on a path below the floorboards that would start in my room and extend into Saizo’s at the other end of the house. 

The weekend came, and, with our hearts in our mouths, Kagero and I put our plan into motion, tearing up the floor in my room and setting out for our destination. It was mainly due to Kagero’s expertise that we pulled through, as I was still far inferior to her and Saizo in terms and of skill, and she often had to warn me of a stray root or support beam. We snuck in under the floorboards without incident and found ourselves directly under Saizo’s room. Kagero, flashing a subtle, yet cheeky wink in my direction, tapped a practiced rhythm on the boards above our heads.

There was silence. And then Saizo’s voice.

“Kagero . . .”

“I’m here,” answered Kagero as she nudged me, and together, we pried the floorboard up.

Saizo sat in complete darkness. He didn’t move or acknowledge us as we crawled into the room. Next to his bed, his weapons lay carelessly discarded alongside his mask. His head was lowered, but I was relieved to see him sitting up. My fears of injury appeared unfounded.

Kagero, however, walked lightly toward him, her eyes searching. She could sense something was wrong. “Why won’t you look at us?”

Saizo grumbled. “I didn’t realize it was required.”

The bitterness of his voice shocked me. “Saizo . . . !” I began, but Kagero shot me a pleading look that shut my mouth. I sat quietly, allowing her to work her magic.

Kagero bent down. “Where have you been? We were worried. Kaze and I both.”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“Then tell me why you’ve been hiding away from us.”

“I don’t have to tell you that either.”

“Did something happen? Did you find the ones who killed your father?”

My breath caught in my throat and I leaned in to hear his answer.

In the dead quiet, I could hear Saizo clench his scarf in his hands.

“I found nothing,” came his answer.

“Saizo-“ Kagero’s hand reached for my brother’s face and he pulled away as if he had been struck.

“Don’t-!”

An illuminating beam of moonlight sliced briefly across Saizo’s face. It was enough. I felt a clawed hand dig into my heart. Kagero gasped audibly, her hand falling to her side.

In the moonlight, Saizo’s blank eye flashed, unseeing and white as death, from under his scarred eyelid.

Saizo turned away from us sharply. I numbly stood, my head reeling. “Brother. What happened?”

“Saizo,” Kagero was visibly shaken, “I didn’t-“

Saizo’s wounded, gravely voice cut through me like a knife. “Get out!”

Kagero and I didn’t speak on our way back through the passageway, nor did we say anything to each other before Kagero left the room, sliding the door shut behind her. Neither of us knew what to say. I flung myself onto my bed and didn’t move the rest of the night, my thoughts racing, revisiting what had happened over and over in my mind.

I wanted to see Saizo again after that incident, but my responsibilities denied me that luxury. Kagero didn’t visit as often; she told me this was because she had decided to take up Saizo’s tasks around the castle while he recovered. When she did stop by, however, she would march straight to Saizo’s room, tap out her usual rhythm, and enter without waiting for an answer. She informed me about his condition but also said he refused to tell her any details.

Her routine visits helped ease my worry, and made it easier to focus on the tasks at hand. This isn’t to say that I didn’t think about my brother anymore. I daily wished to speak to him, but never found time to do so.

However, thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long.

When winter came, Saizo appeared before me in my room.

I hadn’t noticed him initially and jumped upon seeing him, but my shock quickly transformed into relief.

He looked strong and healthy. While his scarred eye was prominently on display, he had donned his mask once more and secured his blades in their proper places, and the look on his face was not one of defeat, but of solid determination.

“I came to apologize,” he said, and winced as he did so, as if the very thought wounded him.

I didn’t speak, and let him continue. He claimed that he felt as though he had gone astray, and the fact that he had left me and Kagero to fulfill his duties had been eating away at him ever since the incident in the summer. He vowed to take up his duties from now on, and relieve me of the burden I had been saddled with.

“This is not to say that I will stop my search for our father’s murderers,” he added, “But I believe now that there will come a time and a place for my revenge in due time.”

I didn’t know what to do other than to voice my relief at his health and gratitude for his new convictions. He vanished soon after, taking the awkward atmosphere with him as he went, and I was left to ponder this new change of heart until dawn.

Years passed, and Saizo became a model leader, if not a bit short tempered. His ambition to avenge Father still consumed him, but he grew to control it, and would only leave late at night to continue the search. The strain that his previous behavior had caused, however, led him and Kagero to drift apart, until they eventually began to act as simple acquaintances and nothing more. He began to take to making explosives, which alarmed me at first, but he assured me that they were only a precaution, and I soon grew accustomed to it. 

I became a well known figure in the capital, and my services were accepted as a foot soldier for Hoshido. I was offered a position as the retainer of the eldest princess, Princess Hinoka, but I rejected the offer. I refused to accept a position of any sort until Princess Corrin was found, and when that day should come, if she were alive, I resolved to express my regret to her and offer her my life. If she were dead, than I would willingly go to my grave as well.

Tensions between the Nohrian and Hoshidan kingdoms continued to build as the years slipped by. The Hoshidans had grown restless after Princess Corrin’s disappearance, and had responded in kind by kidnapping one of the Nohrian royal children in retaliation. The Nohrians had responded with armies of humanoid monsters known as Faceless, which threatened our borders in waves and killed many innocents. The word ‘war’ hung on the lips of every Hoshidan citizen, and the skies in the west seemed to grow darker by the day.

Saizo was called to the palace by Prince Ryoma often to discuss the pressing conflict, and I was sent to the frontlines to confront the enemy on many occasions. As we grew closer to Nohrian ground, I adopted a habit of scanning the faces of every human soldier I came across. By now, Princess Corrin would be a grown woman if she still lived, and I dreaded to think that I could do her more harm by striking her down should she be forced to go to war against her own people. Yet I never came across anyone bearing even a slight resemblance, and I returned from each battle unsure if I was glad I hadn’t seen her or upset that I couldn’t save her.

And so the days stretch on. Tomorrow, I am to join our new allies, the Flame Tribe, in an assault on a captured Hoshidan fort. It is likely to be a difficult battle, but the Flame Tribe are known for their tough and battle hardened warriors, so I am certain we have nothing to fear. Perhaps after the battle, I will finally confront my brother and demand an answer about the circumstances surrounding his obsession with Father’s death and his lost eye. For now, I am forced to leave my story here. I will search for Princess Corrin again at the fort tomorrow. I pray to the gods that I am able to find her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I’d had this idea tossing around in my head for a while now and figure it was time to unleash it! This was so much fun to write, but the number of times I caught myself diverging from canon was insane. I watched quite a few supports for the sake of accuracy because Kaze and Saizo are both very near and dear to my heart XD Hopefully I didn’t mess it up.
> 
> Maybe I’ll do more pre/post canon character stories like this in the future? It was super enjoyable.


End file.
